


Running on Empty

by geckogirl7



Series: Clint Barton Bingo 2019 [8]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton Bingo 2019, Dehydration, Exhaustion, Fainting, Gen, Hurt Clint Barton, Low Blood Sugar, Medical Doctor Bruce Banner, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 18:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21059048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckogirl7/pseuds/geckogirl7
Summary: Clint Barton is stubborn and drives himself beyond exhaustion. When he passes out during a mission it's up to Steve, Natasha, and Bruce to take care of his dumb ass.





	Running on Empty

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aliiiive! I haven't posted in a while, grad. school and work have been kicking my ass and I've just been in a writing slump lately. I've finally gotten motivated to write some things. 
> 
> This is my first work for round two of Clint Barton Bingo! The fill is B3, "Emptiness." 
> 
> This is also for Whumptober prompts 1 "Shaky Hands" and 10 "Unconscious."
> 
> The only warning is for language.

Clint took a deep breath and wiped the sweat off his palms. He clenched his fists hoping to stop the shaking. They were on a mission and he didn’t know the last time he had actually eaten, or the last time he had had anything to drink other than coffee and energy drinks. He was getting jittery and he was worried about being able to take a shot in the state he was in. He had already eaten the few granola bars he brought; he would have packed more if he had realized how goddamn long this mission was going to be.

It had been how many days now? At least three, maybe four. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep over the past few nights. He knew he was running on empty right now, he just hoped he could finish the mission before he crashed. Steve was supposed to meet up with him any time now, he had gone in the opposite direction and Clint had beaten him to their rendezvous point. 

Clint looked at his watch, cursing the tremors running through his muscles. He could feel his heart racing and could sense the blackness creeping up on his vision. 

“Hey, sorry I’m running late.”

“Fucking shit!” Clint nearly jumped out of his skin. 

He turned to see Steve standing there looking amused. 

“It’s not often I can sneak up on you or Natasha.”

“I’ll give you this one Cap,” Clint replied, groaning as he lifted his backpack. 

“Are you ok? You’re looking pretty rough,” Steve asked. 

“We’ve been out in the woods for three days. Not all of us can look like we stepped out of an L.L. Bean catalogue,” Clint replied, rolling his eyes. 

Of course Steve looked perfectly put together. He looked like he had just gone on a casual day hike, not primitive camping in this godforsaken neck of the woods. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve replied, subtly looking Clint over. 

Clint had dark circles under his eyes, and looked pale and shaky. Steve could see a light layer of sweat on his face. He hoped Clint wasn’t getting sick from being out in the damp woods for so long. 

“Yeah, well, the sooner we get back the better. I’m sick of looking at these trees,” Clint said as he cracked open an energy drink. He just needed a little boost for the final stretch of the mission. 

“Natasha and Bruce are on their way. There’s a good spot to land the jet about two miles east,” Steve stated. 

“Well, let’s get rolling,” Clint replied. 

He chugged the last of his drink, shoved the can into his backpack (he wasn’t a goddamn litterbug), and hefted the backpack over his shoulders. He could feel the caffeine kicking in. 

He and Steve started down the trail. He did pretty well for about a mile, Steve was setting a slow pace, but then he felt the shakiness kick back in. His heart was pounding and he felt dizzy. His legs about gave out from under him and he cursed as he leaned against a nearby tree. 

Steve quickly hurried over. 

“Just need a quick timeout,” Clint said, trying to hide the fact that his teeth were chattering. 

“Clint what’s going on, and don’t say ‘nothing’,” Steve said, using his “I’m Captain America” voice. 

“Jus’, runnin’ a little low rightnow...I’ll b’ fine,” Clint slurred slightly. 

“Clint, have you had anything to eat or drink recently?,” Steve asked, beginning to suspect what was going on. 

“Some, um...bars...granola bars”

Clint was having trouble focusing. He was having to concentrate on breathing, he was having trouble catching his breath and felt like he had run a marathon. Why was Steve there? Clint felt himself swaying. 

“Here, I’ve got you,” Steve said, grabbing him by the shoulders. 

“Think m’ gonna…”

Clint didn’t get to finish his sentence before he felt himself start to sink to the ground. The blackness completely overcame his vision and before he knew what was happening he blacked out. 

Steve cursed. He carefully lifted Clint up, shrugged on Clint’s backpack (being careful of his bow folded inside), and started jogging towards the landing site. 

Bruce looked up when Steve came crashing through the doors with an unconscious Clint in his arms. 

“What’s happened?,” he asked, fearing the worst. With Clint there was no telling. 

“He looked exhausted when I met up with him and was acting pretty out of it. I don’t think he’s gotten much sleep and I don’t think he’s had enough to eat or drink,” Steve said. 

“He hasn’t,” Natasha replied, making Steve and Bruce jump. Fortunately Steve had already set Clint down on the nearby gurney. 

Natasha had managed to open Clint’s bag while Bruce and Steve were talking and showed them the many empty bottles of energy drinks and the handful of granola bar wrappers. 

Bruce quickly grabbed a glucose meter and the supplies he needed. 

“I’m thinking low blood sugar and exhaustion,” Bruce explained. He pricked Clint’s finger after wiping it down with alcohol and squeezed the blood onto a test strip which he inserted in the meter. 

Clint had started to stir some and mumbled something indecipherable. 

“It’s low, but not dangerously low. We just need to try to get it back up,” Bruce explained. 

He dug through the medical kit and grabbed a tube of glucose gel and quickly put on some gloves. 

“This will get absorbed through the tissues in his mouth and help bring his sugar back up,” Bruce explained. 

He carefully opened Clint’s mouth only to get lightly smacked in the face. Natasha grabbed Clint’s hands and tried to reassure him. 

“Clint, I’m going to put this in your mouth, just relax. It’ll help bring your blood sugar back up,” Bruce said calmly and loudly. 

Bruce carefully opened Clint’s mouth again, hoping he wouldn’t bite him. Clint just groaned slightly and tried to pull his head away. Natasha placed a hand gently on Clint’s head, stroking his hair which seemed to calm him. Steve took over holding Clint’s hands to make sure he wouldn’t lash out. 

Bruce carefully rubbed the gel onto the inside of Clint’s cheeks and gums. 

“This should kick in in about ten minutes or so,” Bruce said, taking off his gloves. “He’s dehydrated, so I’ll go ahead and start an IV and get him some fluids. With that and some rest he’ll be good,”

Clint slowly started to come around. He was aware of voices and lights and wondered if he fell asleep on his couch. He felt a sharp jab in his arm and flinched, making a pained sound. He felt firm hands holding him. Normally this would freak him out, but he slowly recognized the voices. Natasha. Steve’s strong, but careful, hands (he had gotten his ass beat in sparring enough times to know what Steve’s grip felt like). He heard Bruce’s steady voice. He slowly opened his eyes, still slightly dazed, squinting at the brightness. 

“Clint. Do you know where you are?,” Bruce asked. 

“Quinjet. Why does my mouth taste like fruit?,” Clint asked, grimacing at the dry sickly sweet taste in his mouth. 

“I gave you glucose gel. Your blood sugar dropped and you passed out. Steve got you back to the jet.”

Clint groaned at having to be carried by Steve like a damsel in distress. 

“When’s the last time you ate or drank water,” Natasha asked, calling him out as the dumbass that he was. 

“Ummmm…”

Bruce sighed. “Your vitals are steady, your heart rate finally came down. You were damn near tachycardic. I’ve given you some fluids for dehydration. We’ll keep an eye on your blood sugar and try to get you to eat something small to start with. The main thing will be getting some rest for the next few days.”

Clint nodded, too tired to argue. 

“Look, I know it’s kind of the pot calling the kettle black here, but you need to take care of yourself. I can get away with a lot because of the serum,” Steve admitted. “I just don’t want to see anything happen to anyone on the team because we’re pushing ourselves too hard.”

“I know,” Clint said sighing. He knew Natasha and Bruce had to have been scared seeing Steve carrying him unconscious onto the plane. He hated making everyone worry. 

“From now on I’m packing your bags for missions,” Natasha said, lightly smacking him on the head. 

“Ok mom,” Clint replied yawning, he was starting to get tired. 

“We all have to look out for each other. Call each other out on our bullshit when we aren’t taking care of ourselves,” Steve stated. 

“Language,” Clint muttered, his eyes drifting closed. He smiled when he heard Steve reply “Shut the fuck up Barton” and Bruce and Natasha laughing. He was glad he had awesome people to watch his back. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm probably not going to get to all the Whumptober prompts, but I'm working on a two chapter fic that will incorporate multiple ones as well as fill two bingo prompts. 
> 
> I have no medical training, I just read a few things about low blood sugar and glucose gel, so all the details may not be right. I apologize for any glaring errors.
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr!](https://geckogirl7.tumblr.com/)


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